Worms
by Fading Grace
Summary: Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, a very large bed, and a children's word game. Threesome, AngelusSpikeDrusilla.


Some Season 2 AngelusDrusillaSpike...but in, you know, a threesome way, not a triangle way. For Valentine's.

* * *

"Does the poppet want to hear a story?" Drusilla sighed into Angel's shoulder. It was healing quickly from the long scratches she had put there. It was a game: draw a red line with one nail, then go back up to the beginning and draw another before the first was completely closed. She liked to lose, because she got to have another go.

Angelus was lethargic and still, one arm under her and curled around her waist, the other propping his head up. Drusilla stayed awake all hours, because she didn't technically need it, but it was high noon and Angel was disinclined to move. To hell with 'plenty of time to sleep when you're dead'.

The king-sized bed that they shared was starting to come apart at seams and joints, creaking appropriately at any movement. He said, "Sure, bonnie. Tell me a story."

Her hand moved down to his stomach, and traced an ornate, detailed picture of a bed of peonies. The skin healed quickly, but left the blood on the surface behind, giving her the paints. Drusilla liked peonies. "Once upon a time…"

"This better not have a happy ending," Angelus warned.

"Ooh, never." She growled in his ear, and then licked it.

"I hate happy endings," he grumbled to himself.

Without pausing to make sure he was finished, Drusilla said, "There was a silly bugger who managed to find himself a soul. And he left behind two innocent, helpless, doe-eyed…"

"You'd been eating humans for fifty years, by then. And William had learned enough."

She pressed her nail into his skin, all the way to muscle. Her sire grunted. "Stop interrupting." When he didn't, she went on. "And the younger went all mopey because of him being gone, and the older did a bit of havoc and made the younger fake her death a few times. But it was cold. And lonely. Our angel had gone…"

"Dru, dear, why are you telling me a story about your annoying spawn?"

From a few doors down the hall, in their makeshift library, Spike called, "I _can_ hear you. Haven't got bloody sharp ears for nothing."

Drusilla shuddered, and her long fingers clutched at the lines of defined musculature where the hem of his pants would have touched his hip, had he been wearing any. Her voice was rapturous. "Oh, you should've seen him, my angel. He took care of me, after you away'd."

"He did? Mmm. Doesn't sound like the Spike I know."

"Very good care." Her voice became breathy, and caressed the words like a lover. "So gentle, Spike." And, more childlike, "Got me birdies to sing, and then more to sing anew, and then ghoulies and ghosties to keep me company down in the dark dark black."

They both looked to the doorway, where Spike was leaning, arms crossed over his thin chest. "Now, Dru. Must we reminisce?" His tone was playful, but scolding underneath, where the grubs lived.

"Spike!" Drusilla sang, delighted. "Your voice is a stone!"

"Sits in the stomach like one," Angelus whispered in her ear.

Spike pushed himself away from the doorjamb, frustrated. "I can still hear you. No matter how low you pitch your voice."

Angelus' hand, the one wrapped around Drusilla's waist where she couldn't see, made a rude gesture right at Spike.

"My angel," Drusilla said, cuddling up to him. The covers only came up to their hips. Then, she twisted her back to lay her shoulder flat, offering Spike a nice view of her breasts. Her fingers splayed and reached for him. "My Spike. Come, come."

Spike scowled, with the indulgent smile he used to wear for her before Angelus came back at the edges. He pressed his knees against the high, outer boundary of the mattress they all shared alike.

"What a pretty dichotomy," Drusilla cooed, touching the fabric of his pants with her fingertips. Her other hand, trapped between her body and Angelus', moved under his room-temperature weight. "Come and lie with us."

Spike's mouth writhed momentarily, because the pillows would throw his hair into disarray, and he liked his hair. But he pulled the covers away from her and slid in, touching his forehead to the smooth space between Drusilla's shoulder-blades.

She'd buried her face in Angelus' shoulder once more. "Should've seen him. Pining away, wondering after you."

Spike's hand rested flat against her belly, and then pushed in until her back was flush to his front and the air was gone out of her so she couldn't speak. "We don't really need to revisit that, love."

She didn't struggle, and he let go. And then she said, "And after he saw you again. Like you'd betrayed us both with that trollop, but worse for him because he looked up to you."

Angelus simpered, "Aww, how cute, that changes my entire approach to our relationship."

Spike's face changed into its hard and vicious façade, and he stretched his neck to get closer to his enemy, his ear touching Drusilla's, cheek to hers. "Laugh it up. Everything is still your fault."

Drusilla whined in her throat, and both men shifted away to let her scramble out of bed when she showed warning signs of thrashing.

Angelus sighed. "Dru, don't do that. He didn't mean to weird you out – Spike, tell her you didn't mean to."

"Go to hell, Angelus. Permanently, this time."

Calming down, Drusilla started to recite a monologue, a child's game. "Crazy? I used to be crazy. They put me in a mental institute."

Both of her companions looked down and away.

"I died there. They buried me."

Spike flinched.

"That's when the worms came." And then, as though a different side of the conversation, her voice dropped an octave lower. " Worms? I _hate_ worms! They drive me crazy." And back into her natural, airy voice. "Crazy? I used to be crazy. They put me in a mental institute…"

She went on, nearly singing it, over and over again.

Spike slid closer to Angelus, who didn't mind that Drusilla had pushed the blankets down to his knees. In a deadly low voice, Spike whispered, "You made her into _that_."

Angelus watched her turning in a slow, dreamy circle, arms wrapped tight around her upper body. His grin turned feral. "Good."

Spike pressed on Angelus' sternum with strength that would have crushed a human's ribcage. "I stayed with her for a-bloody-fucking-hundred years. You've no idea."

Angelus snarled and grabbed his wrist and _did_ break it. Spike felt it go numb as the bone started to heal, more slowly than skin did.

Drusilla choked, and her words came faster and faster, becoming nonsensical.

Spike pretended that his arm was fine and pressed his body into Angelus sweetly. "Don't worry yourself, Dru, darling. We're getting along fine."

"A nest of love, over here," Angelus agreed mockingly, sliding his fingers into Spike's hair from the neck up and deliberately ruining the slicked style. And then he pulled up, sharply, to force Spike's lips against his own to demonstrate.

Drusilla was still muttering, blankly and tonelessly, but she had wandered off into the corner, where an earlier meal was still alive enough to ooze when her nails dug into places. "Crazy I used-to-be crazy they put-me-in-a mental institute I-died-there they buried-me that's when-the-worms came worms I _hate_ worms they-drive-me-crazy…"

Spike bit Angelus' lip to make him let go, and pulled back with a few drops of blood lighting his tongue on fire. "I hate you," he hissed, furious as a snake that wishes it could hold without crushing a thing.

Drusilla wove her words into her mantra. "Crazy I used to be crazy cor Spike the Snake they put me in a got a big snake mental institute can hold me however you like I died there they buried me so gentle, Spike that's when the worms came before my angel came back to us worms I hate worms you'll be gentle again they drive me crazy won't you…"

Angelus touched his nose to Spike's sharp cheekbones and nuzzled him. "You won't. Not for long. You're just put out because I left, but I'm back, and you'll get over it."

Spike snorted, disbelieving. But he knew that, eventually, he'd probably give up against his two lunatic companions…

"Such a pretty dichotomy inside you, Spike," Drusilla repeated to herself, finally breaking out of the child's word-game. She came back to the bed, her fingers crimson up to the knuckles, and set her hands on her bare hips. "Spike, you know the rules."

Spike rolled away from Angelus and started kicking out of his pants. "Yes, love."

She giggled and helped him with his shirt, then burrowed into the blankets on his other side, trapping him between them both. And so they all fell asleep.


End file.
